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by Jack_Of_Harts



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Chair Sex, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23670439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jack_Of_Harts/pseuds/Jack_Of_Harts
Summary: What it says in the tags. ;) Default name Mahariel because I lack imagination.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Male Mahariel, Zevran Arainai/Male Warden
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Home

“Comfortable there, my dear?” 

Theron didn’t need to open his eyes or remove his head from Zevran’s collarbone to hear the smile in his voice. Every roll of their hips was slow and languid. Zevran’s cock was hot against his hip, but the thin lines of precome that welled up and dragged over his skin grew cold quickly. 

Theron’s response was a low groan in the back of his throat. Arousal prowled low in the pit of his stomach. This friction, this closeness, this primal _heat_ between them was perfection. His own cock twitched against Zevran’s stomach, aching to be touched again. He rocked forwards insistently, pressing Zevran further back into the armchair they shared. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” The murmur was close to his ear. Zevran shifted slightly beneath him, one warm hand coming up to snake under his braids and cup the base of his skull. The other arm remained still, pressing another dull ache into Theron’s back as their bodies pressed together again in a slow surge of pleasured friction. 

They rocked together gently, Theron awash with pleasure and damp heat as his own breath was reflected back at him from Zevran’s skin. It prickled up from stomach to spine to neck, and then all the way down to his toes. He didn’t mind the pressure against his knees from kneeling in one position for so long. Not when the slow-building ache of pleasure would eventually eclipse it and render it a distant memory. 

The hand on his back moved and the cold was enough to make him open his eyes. Not that he could see anything beyond the smooth curves of Zevran’s skin, the faint wisps of his golden hair that fell like a silk curtain. What was he-? _Oh_. The hand settled in a new spot, gripping tightly at one ass cheek. Theron couldn’t help the groan of want that bled through his lips, and he arched his back into the touch even though that meant his cock bobbed freely in the warming air between their bodies.

Zevran laughed something low and sultry and wholly unfair somewhere just above his head.

“Is this what you want, _amor_ ?” He asked, the hand squeezing tighter. Zevran’s other hand was still firmly planted on the back of his neck. Heat bled from that hand like a furnace, pressing down against skin and bone and muscle. Practically scruffing him, keeping him still now with only two hands. Zevran wasn’t rough with him in bed… Unless asked. _Then_ he was happy to pin a partner down and do whatever he wished with them, for as long as wanted.

Theron felt a low, base shiver go through him as he considered the situation in a new light. If he said yes, the slow and romantic atmosphere would sharpen and harden into something paradoxically unfettered and at the same time strictly ordered. The potential to be pinned down and manhandled and fucked into raw incoherency for all the world to hear, all halted if the right word fell off his tongue. Control tightly held like a whip. 

As he knelt and Zevran waited silently for a response, Theron felt the hand on his neck begin to ease off, the pressure against his spine and skull lessened, and the one lower down began squeezing rhythmically, kneading the flesh in a way that was almost a massage.

Theron’s next breath plumed through his nose and fluttered damply against Zevran’s shoulder. His cock throbbed needily. _He_ was needy. So needy. He craved release. But did he crave it _here_ and _now_ in the arms of his lover, or _later_ after an indefinable period of sweet agony? He flicked his tongue out over his lips, and then brushed it butterfly-light against a strip of Zevran’s skin. He felt the hands on him tighten reflexively, heard the softest hitch in Zevran’s chest. He tasted the salt of sweat on his tongue, and he wanted more. 

“Do you want this, Theron?” Zevran repeated, not that he needed to, but the sound of his own name imparted some clarity through the haze of wanting. 

He lifted his head up to see Zevran’s face studying him and smiled to reassure whatever worries may have been building due to his silence. “Please...”

Zevran returned the smile and pulled their hips back together until skin ground against skin. Theron gasped, and eagerly reciprocated the motion. They fell back into a familiar inelegant rhythm, bodies grinding mindlessly in search of release, muffling groans against each other’s skin. 

Unable to bear the slow-burning, fumbling torture any more, Theron reached down and took both himself and Zevran in hand. There was another low groan from the man before him, and Zevran’s hips twitched forwards on blind instinct. Their cocks dragged together, oozing clear precome over Theron’s fingers. Theron’s other hand gripped hard at the arm of the chair, the last anchor for his senses to balance so precariously on. The heat between them now was so intense it took his breath away. Their bodies intertwined so comfortably, focused wholly on this central point and basking in each other. He gave their cocks a firm upwards stroke that left them both trembling, insensible and reeling.

“Ah, Theron…” Zevran breathed against him, torn between warning and encouragement. Theron pressed a line of kisses against Zevran’s sweat-damp collarbone and repeated the motion so Zevran could decide if it was a warning or encouragement he meant. At the apex of the stroke, Theron thumbed at the head of his own cock for selfish pleasure. His stomach tensed and his hips twitched forward. Zevran chuckled something breathless against his ear.

He pressed himself tighter against Zevran, and when he pulled his hand back down to the base of their shafts, he smeared some of the leaking precum down too. Zevran groaned again, his grip tightening as the pleasure increased with every stroke and practised roll of their hips. All of it was so comfortable. So familiar. Like home. Theron shuddered and thrust his hips up shallowly, increasing the pace of his hand to get more beautiful friction. He lifted his head up to press a wet, breathless kiss to Zevran’s cheek, his mouth, anywhere he could reach. Zevran’s hand tangled in his braids, keeping him close. Theron couldn’t pull away if he tried, if he even wanted to. Zevran’s other hand joined Theron’s around their cocks, their hands forming a loose cage they could both rut into with abandon.

The two clung to each other, bodies aching with mutual lust for a desperate release and something... Deeper. It went beyond sex, to something even baser. A simple instinctive hunger for the reassurance of touch that went unspoken between them. No words were needed for this. There was nothing more to say, nowhere else to be. They belonged here, right now, sharing this intimate moment. They belonged together. So familiar. So loved. The slow gentleness from earlier had burned away to blind passion and selfish want. Theron felt the tension of release start building at the base of his spine, prickling his skin from the inside out as it radiated outwards from his innermost depths.

“Zev…” he warned, toes curling against empty air. His response was a grunt and another claiming kiss. Zevran’s teeth caught his bottom lip and the edge of pain it produced made his head swim with need. He wanted this, and so much more- “Ohh, _fuck_ ,” he hissed without meaning, cock throbbing hard against Zevran’s palm. “Oh, ohh…” he groaned, and when Zevran released his lip he buried his head against Zevran’s solidly warm body. The groans and other noises spilt out of him unhindered, his frayed control now unravelling. His other hand was still gripping at the armchair - a useless anchor now - so hard he knew the creases of the fabric would be etched into his palm for hours. It hurt but he couldn’t let go now. If he did he would come, the pain of his grip was the only thing that kept him somewhat balanced, reeling uncontrollably, _straddling_ the knife’s edge of pleasure. At least, that was what his frantic mind told itself as his thighs trembled with the strain of kneeling for so long and his stomach muscles twitched in anticipation. He gasped and writhed in Zevran’s lap; Zevran had the back of the chair to brace himself against. Not that he had much choice in the matter, pinned down by his lover’s body like this.

Zevran’s hand tightened in his hair as his hips surged forwards up and against Theron, and then it was all too much at once and Theron’s hips stuttered far beyond his control with a strength he never thought they contained. Lines of pale white come splattered over their hands and stomachs, Theron shuddered and cried out his pleasure against Zevran’s body as their hips clashed with jarring force. He trembled in Zevran’s arms, panting hard for breath as a precious second behind, he felt Zevran's release join his coupled with a wordless cry. Pleasure numbed his brain and made his nerves cry with overstimulation until Zevran wrapped both arms around his torso and pulled him into a crushing hug that returned him to reality. 

They were both silent, winded, for a while. Simply resting together, trading gentle kisses as their bodies recovered. Zevran ran the flat of his palm up and down the defined lines of his back in a slow mechanical motion. Theron felt more than relaxed. Anyone would after they’d come like that. He didn't mind having his hair stroked, but he didn't _need_ it, so why was he doing that? Maybe it was for his own benefit, acting on some endearing need to comfort his partner? _Adorable_.

“How are you feeling?” His throat felt raw, his voice a hoarse whisper. 

“Wonderful,” Zevran sighed, stubbornly clinging onto him when he tried to get up. “But wondering where you’re going.” He pouted, pulling Theron back into his lap.

Theron couldn't help a grin, even as a cramp began in his thigh. “Well, if you must know, I was heading to bed.”

“Oh? Tuckered out already, _amor_?”

“No, no. I was just going to make good on my promise. Over on the bed, where it’s far more comfortable.”

Zevran gave him his best seductive smile, and relaxed his grip. “I _see_. Well, don’t let me stop you.”


End file.
